


on the unstoppable, the immovable (stories from floor 6)

by everythingFangirl



Series: when I'm with you, I can only be me (stories from the victors' tower) [13]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (technically) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst, Friendship, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, i never know how to tag these, victors' tower au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29136285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythingFangirl/pseuds/everythingFangirl
Summary: There’s nothing left to say.Charlie leans to his right, just slightly, just enough to brush his shoulder against Ted’s. A quiet assurance, the only thing he can do.I’m here.Ted doesn’t lean away.~Ten days in the lives of Charlie and Ted; or, in which the world stops moving, and starts again.
Relationships: Charlie Dalgleish & Ted Nivison, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: when I'm with you, I can only be me (stories from the victors' tower) [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715008
Comments: 23
Kudos: 43
Collections: victors' tower (stories from floor 6)





	on the unstoppable, the immovable (stories from floor 6)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WreakingHavok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WreakingHavok/gifts), [FizzyOrange](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FizzyOrange/gifts), [band of yahoos](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=band+of+yahoos).



> Well then. It's been a year since the publication of as I get older. Time flies, huh? I thought I'd do something for the occasion, so here you go.
> 
> This is a collection of VT post-canon drabbles and snippets of writing that I've gathered over the past few months. We had big plans for where the plot could go, but after everything that's happened we've decided not to go through with them as a group. I still wanted to get this out there, though, so here they are. Some of these are fairly old, some are more recent (and some are even completely unseen so far!), and I've made some edits to give them more of a through line. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and thank you for being here!

April 4th, 67

“Why the fuck are you always trying to shove your nose into my business? I've told you time and time again I don't want to do this, so why do you keep trying to talk to me-"

_"Because I don't have anyone else!"_

The words rip out of Charlie’s lungs with a force that freezes Ted in place. The words he’s kept bottled up for so long, that he’s been so desperately trying to say for months, years, because it’s _true_. Ted’s the closest thing he has to a best friend in this damn place. The closest thing he’s gotten to Condi.

“That’s,” Ted finally says, voice more confused than angry now, “that’s not true! You have your friends! You still call them, you still talk- why don’t you talk to them?”

Charlie almost wants to laugh. “You think- you think getting to talk to my friends back in district seven once for an hour every few months is enough? That they - that they could even begin to understand anyway?” He can’t stop himself, and the bitter laugh spills out of his throat. “Solstices, I knew you were repressed,Ted, but you think that’s enough?”

“Well it’s more than I have!”

And, in the end, isn’t that the whole point?

Charlie almost deflates. The fire has burned out. All that remains is the burnt husk of where a forest once stood.

“Right. And you’re clearly doing so well.”

Ted falls silent at that, as if he’d also realized what he just said. Perhaps for the first time, true silence falls between Charlie and Ted. Not the loud, tense kind of silence that had slithered between them for so long, dense enough to cut with an axe or a butcher’s knife, but a softer, sadder kind. Maybe there’s just nothing more to say.

Except…

(The immovable object begins to move)

“I’m so sorry, Charlie.”

The pain in his voice, the sincerity... Charlie looks up. And he’s crying. Ted Nivison is crying.

Charlie feels as if his heart has stopped.

(The unstoppable object finally comes to a place of rest).

“Yeah. Me too.”

(And something green, something new, peeks through the forest’s ashes.)

October 7th, 72

There’s twelve of them.

There’s twelve, and then, and then -

_The name is called, and the boy steps out from the crowd of twelve-year-olds, and Charlie’s heart stops beating._

The glint of sunlight on steel -

_The boy says SwaggerSouls’ name with a grin, and Charlie watches his face disappear under the helmet Grace gives him, and his own smile is still just a little too forced._

The chill of the night he can almost feel through the screen -

_The training, and the private session and a number that comes up on the screen, and he feels the sinking dread he’s only felt once in his life as all hope seems to fall away._

_One. It’s a one. It’s the end._

Hands scrabbling through a backpack, hunger he remembers all too well -

_A name spoken, a new one, the boy answering Phil’s smile with a grin of his own. Charlie’s not letting him make the same mistake as he did, not ever._

Footsteps crashing against the ground, his heart pounding in his ears in tandem, adrenaline -

_He doesn’t even have a token, and Charlie’s hands almost go to the string at his throat, when Grace kneels down and places that rosewood pendant, the one he made for her, around the boy’s neck._

His nails digging into the arm of the couch, or maybe it’s someone’s hand, but he can’t let go, it’s the only way he can stop himself from shaking as he leans forward and everything except the television screen falls away -

And then -

_And then -_

And then everything stops.

Stillness. Absolute silence. Nothing but him, and his hands pressed to his mouth, and the eyes of the others on him, and the boy on the screen.

And a name is called.

And suddenly, people are bursting into the room, a thousand more cameras pointed to him, and they’re cheering, and they’re dragging him out of the door, and he can only catch a glimpse of Ted’s wide eyes and Alex’s half-smile before he’s in the elevator and that name, those words, are still ringing in his ears.

_Congratulations to ‘WildSpartanz’, Victor of the 72nd Annual Hunger Games!_

October 30th, 72

There are six, now.

At first, Charlie didn’t really care to remember. But he does, now, he’s taken the time to go back and remember every single one of their names.

Slimecicle, toxxxicsupport, SwaggerSouls, H2ODelirious, iDubbbz.

Charlie, Angel, Eric, Jonathan, Ian.

And now, WildSpartanz - no, Brandon - has taken his place among their ranks.

Returning to the Tower after Brandon’s Victory Tour is a strange feeling. It’s the furthest he’s been from it, the longest he’s spent away, since Charlie’s own tour. A part of him doesn’t want to be back; a part of him wants to desperately. He doesn’t know which feels worse.

On the ground floor, he walks Brandon to the elevator. The elevator that will take him up to floor 7, where he’ll live for the rest of his life, with Ludwig and Kara who are both so much older than him, _his kid will be forced to live with strangers and even now he’s won he’ll never really get to live the life he deserves to have-_

“I’m scared.” Brandon clutches at his shirt, at where Charlie knows Grace’s necklace still hangs.

Charlie tries to smile, if only for Brandon’s sake. “I know. I was scared too, at first. But you’ll get used to it. And...” Charlie remembers Ted and Alex and Schlatt and Travis and Cooper and Noah and Connor and Mason and Dashell - his friends, his _family_ , one of the few undeniably good things to happen to him since they called his name out on that goddamn stage. His smile turns a little more genuine. “I think you’ll be okay.”

Brandon inhales, nods. In that moment he looks so _young_ that Charlie wants to cry, but he doesn’t. He can’t. Instead, he just wraps his arms around him.

It’ll be the last time he gets to do that in a while.

Brandon hugs him back without hesitation.

The peacekeepers shift behind them, and Charlie breaks away. “Come on, you don’t want to be late. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Yeah.” Brandon smiles at him, and it’s bright. “See you soon.”

He walks into the elevator, gives him a small wave, and the doors close.

Left alone in the silence of the ground floor, Charlie sighs, and thinks about himself for the first time in weeks. Thinks about himself, his future, the people waiting for him upstairs.

What now?

Thoughts continue to swirl around his head as the elevator returns and he steps inside. What will they think of him? Almost every single one of them had a kid in those Games, but Brandon won, and they lost. Charlie still remembers the slight but undeniably present air of resentment that had filled the floor for some time when Schlatt -

When -

All of the others have been trying to save their tributes for years without success. Would they be jealous?

Would they hate him for this?

The elevator stops. The doors slide open.

Only Ted’s standing in the entrance hall. He looks sad, but... only in the way they all do every year after the Games.

And when he sees Charlie, he smiles.

“You did it!”

Charlie finds himself smiling back. “Yeah.”

Ted opens his arms a little hesitantly, and Charlie accepts the hug without a second thought. He exhales shakily against his shoulder, all the tension finally leaving his body. He did it. He’s done. He never, ever, ever has to send a kid into that arena again.

Brandon does. And maybe that’s worse.

But just for that moment, Charlie allows himself to feel grateful.

He’s done.

He’s finally done.

It’s going to be okay.

“Do you need to talk?”

Ted gestures towards the glass door of the balcony. And, Charlie would love to talk, after twelve days of speeches and dinners and galas and sleepless nights on the train, about everything and anything and Brandon and the Games and the past and the future, but -

But outside, the sun is setting.

The sun is setting, and Ted still made the offer.

Charlie knows what it means. But it’s not a sacrifice Ted has to make, so he just smiles. “Maybe not right now. I’m just tired, probably going to go to bed soon. Tomorrow, though, sure.”

Ted smiles back. He knows what that means, too.

Charlie’s exhausted, still, barely having a moment to breathe since the Games and the interviews and the tour, but… he wouldn’t mind getting up early, just this once.

Just to watch the sunrise.

September 3rd, 75

Two days ago, the world stopped moving.

Two days ago, the third Quarter Quell was announced. And two days ago, Charlie’s world stopped moving.

They’re on the balcony. Just him and Ted. The others have retreated to whatever hiding places they’ve carved out for themselves over the years, the pool room or the entry hall or the kitchen. And not alone. None of them want to be alone today.

Alex and Noah, Cooper and Travis, Schlatt and Connor, Mason and Dash. Ted and Charlie.

They’re on the balcony, with the cold wind beating against his face, and Charlie can’t breathe.

_Because they’re going back in._

They’re going back in, and there’s nothing he can do for Ted or Alex or Travis or Cooper or Noah or Mason or Dashell, there’s absolutely nothing he can do for Schlatt or Connor, there’s nothing he can do for himself…

There is something he can do for Brandon, for Angel.

And, solstices, it hurts.

“I…” Even after all this time, Charlie finds himself struggling to speak. But Ted deserves to know. “If it’s… if it’s Brandon, I don’t know if I can just…”

“No.” Ted doesn’t even let him finish. When Charlie turns to him, he’s staring back, wide-eyed, shaking his head. “Charlie, don’t.”

“I wish it was that easy.” Because he knows, he knows, that there’s still only one thing worse than being chosen to face the Arena. No matter how scared he is, no matter how badly the thought shakes him. And he knows Ted knows that, too. “If it was Rebecca, would you be able to just let her go?”

Ted doesn’t reply. He just turns back to the skyline, jaw set, hands white-knuckled around the railing. Both of them already know the answer.

A moment passes. Then another. No words are spoken.

There’s nothing left to say.

Charlie leans to his right, just slightly, just enough to brush his shoulder against Ted’s. A quiet assurance, the only thing he can do. _I’m here._

Ted doesn’t lean away.

And the sun is beginning to set.

October 1st, 75

_If it was Rebecca, would you be able to just let her go?_

“JustaMinx!”

No.

The sound that tears out of Charlie’s throat is almost a whimper.

Solstices, no.

Please, just this once, please don’t do this, _don’t be a fucking idiot, don’t do this, please -_

“I volunteer as tribute!”

The voice is unmistakable.

_No._

Tears prickle at the corners of Charlie’s eyes.

…but nothing happens.

Philza just looks down at them, endless pity in his eyes. It’s almost imperceptible, but… he’s shaking his head.

And then everything happens at once.

The Peacekeepers continue to tug Rebecca towards the stage. Ted lunges forward and cries out, “Wait, no, I volunteer, _please_ -“ More Peacekeepers slam into him, grab his arms, hold him back as he continues to struggle, begin to tug him towards the exit -

And Charlie comes to the dim realization that -

Ted is safe.

He’s safe.

He’s safe.

Everybody’s turned towards the commotion, to Ted who’s almost at the door now, who’s still trying to get back, still fighting -

He meets Charlie’s eyes.

And, with tears still threatening to spill, Charlie offers him the ghost of a smile.

The doors slam shut.

_He’s safe._

And, in the end, that's all that matters, isn't it?

Isn’t it?

~~What does it say when you’re so entranced by another person’s safety that you completely forget your own?~~

October 1st, 75

Three of them stumble out of the elevator. Three. Three, when ten had gone down. It’s too much.

And Ted’s mind had been reeling, about Rebecca, about himself, about the unfairness of it all _Rebecca Rebecca Rebecca_ that he hadn’t even stopped to consider --

"...who did we lose?"

His voice is hoarse, and the useless useless _useless_ question fades into the air. Nobody responds, but the answer's all too horribly clear from who's missing from their ranks.

Schlatt and Connor and Altrive are missing. That much Ted already knew. Mason is shaking, hands wrapped around himself, glancing at the others with something like pity.

Cooper is missing. Travis is staring into nothingness, tears spilling down his cheeks, unmoving.

Alex is missing. Noah pushes past Ted roughly, not sparing him a second glance, and barrels down the hallway.

And Charlie…

Charlie is missing.

Charlie is missing.

Charlie is missing.

Ted hears Noah's pained scream from behind him, and can't even muster the strength to care, because _Charlie is fucking missing._

And, well, isn't that just _fucking_ great?

Isn't this what he'd been afraid of? All those years ago, when he refused to talk to him, because he couldn't bear the pain of losing anyone again like he lost Moses? Well, look at what good that did him now! And he hadn’t even thought, and he hadn’t even fucking thought ---

Ted doesn't even realize he's moving until the cool air of the balcony hits his face. It doesn’t make it any easier to breathe. Especially not after he looks up.

The sun is setting. How fucking symbolic, isn’t it?

Every name he's lost today swirls through Ted's mind. Alex Cooper Schlatt Connor Altrive, Rebecca, who had stood here with him for his first Sunrise at the Tower, Charlie, who was the only reason he hadn't spend every subsequent one alone, Charlie, Charlie, _Charlie_ \---

And as the sun sets on him, absolutely, irrefutably _alone_ , Ted screams into the empty, uncaring air until there's nothing left in his lungs.

October 4th, 75

That year, the balcony over the Training Center is more crowded than usual. In the few days Charlie has to spend there, he’s scared to look up. Scared of the goodbyes he never got to say.

But, on the last day, in the evening, when the hall is almost empty and he’s one of the last ones left... just for a moment, he dares to glance up.

And finds a single figure standing there.

Their eyes meet.

Two fingers tapping on the inside of Ted’s left arm. A gesture that might look like innocuous fidgeting to a bystander. A sign Charlie knows all too well after hours of tutoring from Schlatt and Connor.

_Danger. Landslide. Get out, get out, **get out.**_

Slowly, deliberately, Charlie taps back. A sign he’d committed to memory, made absolutely sure he’d get right.

_All clear. The way ahead is safe._

It takes a moment for Ted to send his response. His hands are shaking.

_Turn around, go back. Come home._

And, well. That’s the only thing he can’t promise, isn’t it?

It’s not enough. It’s not nearly enough. It’s not a substitution to the hours of conversation they’d lost, the years they’d lost bickering and clashing and avoiding each other. It’s not enough. It has to be. Because they’ll never get another chance.

With a sad smile, Charlie only repeats his gesture.

_All clear. The way ahead is safe. Keep moving._

_Goodbye._

And when Charlie turns away from his best friend for the last time, he doesn’t look back.

~~He doesn’t show his tears. He doesn't see Ted's, either.~~

October 8th, 75

Two hours ago, the world lurched back into motion.

Two hours ago, the forcefield shattered with not a single drop of blood spilt. Two hours ago, Charlie’s world lurched back into motion, and it was all he could do to hold on.

He’s out. He’s alive. It’s infinitely more than he could have hoped for.

But Charlie’s still lost people. Not in the way he thought, but still, but, but, but -

As he watches the landscapes pass through the window of the hovercraft, their names run through his mind. Alex disappearing into the distance as the hovercraft leave him behind, Noah Travis Mason Angel Brandon Grace left behind at the Tower with no idea whether they’re still alive -

Hell, Charlie doesn’t know if the Capitol -

If they -

The sun is rising, and he can only think of Ted.

That first sunrise on the balcony, all the ones after it they’d shared with the rest of the floor, _Ted being dragged away by the Peacekeepers and Charlie being sure he’d never see him again,_ and now...

Where is Ted now? What does he think happened to them? What are they doing to him?

Is he with Noah and Travis and Mason? Is he hidden away, alone in his grief? Is he already locked away somewhere? Is he -

Or is Ted on their balcony right now, who knows how many miles away, looking up at the same sunrise as Charlie?

Charlie doesn’t know what to think.

But, in that moment, he makes a promise to himself.

He’s going back.

He looks at Cooper and Schlatt and Connor and Altrive and Minx and Niki and everyone around him, sees Condi (oh, solstices, _Condi_ ) giving him a weak smile, feels the rays of the rising sun warming his face, and knows they’re all thinking the exact same thing.

He’s going back, and he’s getting Noah and Travis and Mason and Angel and Brandon and Grace and Alex and _Ted_ , he’s getting his _family_ , and he’s bringing them back.

Whatever the cost.

November 3rd, 75

There's trees outside of district 13. A forest, even.

Charlie had glimpsed the trees of district seven on his sparse visits back, but never like this. Never up close.

It had been years since he'd simply been allowed to wander, alone, get lost in the green and the sunlight and the whisper of a breeze across his face, no shackles, no bounds, nobody at his back calling for him to come home.

It's so quiet.

It's so quiet.

It's so impossibly quiet.

He looks at the vivid green leaves fluttering with the wind, the twigs that snap underfoot as he walks, the moss that crawls up the trunks and along the ground to cover it in a blanket of dark green, like he's seeing them for the first time. Maybe he is. You don't learn you truly love something until it's taken from you.

He comes to a stop at the trunk of a tree, slides down to sit among its roots. He slides a hand across the rough bark, across the soft mossy ground, relishing in every sensation. He leans his head back and closes his eyes.

And, for the first time in over a decade, _Charlie breathes._

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale. The air is so fresh, so clean, so _alive_...

Exhale. Not like the air in the Tower, static and dry and scathing against his lungs.

Inhale. The forest slowly comes to life around him, and he realizes it had never really been quiet at all...

Exhale. So much life, so much life, so much _life_ , when death had been a constant companion for so long.

Inhale. The whistle of a bird filters through the trees, joyful and free...

Exhale. He's free now, too. He's free, he's free, he's free, so why does he still feel so shackled?

Inhale. Another whistle joins in, and another, and another, until he's surrounded by a chorus of the most beautiful sounds he's ever heard...

Exhale. And yet the silence presses in around him, because there's nobody here, there's nobody here at all, and the sky is too vast, and the trees are too tall, and the light is too bright.

It's been so long since he's truly been alone.

Inhale. Zach and Wheatie...

Exhale. Cooper and Schlatt and Connor and Altrive _and Noah and Travis and Mason and_

Inhale. Mom and dad, everyone back home...

Exhale. _Angel and Grace, left behind._

Inhale. His brother...

Exhale. _Brandon, solstices, Brandon._

Inhale. Nate and Condi...

Exhale. _Ted, Ted, Ted -_

Inhale.

Exhale.

If you keep a bird in a cage long enough, will it survive if you set it free?

Because the sky is too vast and the trees are too tall and the light is too bright -

Because Alex and Noah and Travis and Mason and _Ted_ -

But.

But it's so much easier to breathe here.

It's so much easier to breathe.

Charlie opens his eyes, feels the sunbeams filtering through the leaves and warming his face, and he smiles.

He can't wait for them to see this.

January 16th, 76

The Tower is burning.

_The Tower is burning._

_The Tower is fucking burning_ , and the rebels, and the hovercrafts, and it’s Ted’s goddamn _birthday_ , and -

_"Ted!"_

He's running away from the flames, and through the smoke he can glimpse Charlie's fearful face from the transport latched to the balcony. But it's already drifting away, moving further from the Tower by the second, and the building is on fire behind him, and Charlie is still screaming his name, his hand stretched towards him, but he's not going to make it -

Ted does the only thing he can. He braces a foot on the railing -

And leaps into the empty air.

A million images flash through his mind all at once. Moses reaching towards him as the Peacekeepers drag him towards the stage, Charlie reaching to shake his hand when they first met, Charlie reaching out again and again and again over the years and Ted turning him away every time, until the day he didn't, until he felt his hand on his shoulder and didn't brush it away -

Ted reaching out towards Minx and Schlatt and Connor and Altrive and, and all of them, and _Charlie_ , as the Peacekeepers drag him away once again, as he catches a last glimpse of his friends before they're ripped away again, ripped away, ripped away -

Charlie reaching out his hand from the hovercraft -

And Ted reaches back -

And their hands link.

He feels as if his arm is about to be yanked out of its socket, as for a breathless moment, his legs dangle over the nothingness, but it's okay, because Charlie's got him, because he knows he's not going to let him go, Ted's never going to let go again.

Charlie pulls him up into the hovercraft, other hands come up to help but it doesn't matter because he's strong enough, and, when Ted has a solid surface under his feet again, Charlie pulls him into a bone-crushing hug.

Once upon a time, Ted would have hesitated to return it. He doesn't anymore.

They fly, the burning ruins of the Tower illuminating the darkness of the night, but it doesn't matter. Because for Ted, the sun has risen again.

January 16th, 76

_“Ted!”_

The Tower is burning, _their fucking home is burning,_ and through the smoke Charlie can barely see Ted running onto the balcony, but the hovercraft is already pulling away, getting further every second, and there’s nothing he can do -

Except watch in horror as Ted braces a foot on the railing and _leaps_.

Images flash through Charlie’s mind as Ted flies through the empty air. Condi slipping from his grasp as he steps towards the stage, Nate slipping from his grasp as his escort calls him back onto the train, Ted slipping from his grasp again and again and again as he tried and tried to reach out without success, until he didn’t, until Charlie reached out one last time and Ted finally didn’t let go -

Brandon stepping into the elevator to floor 7. Grace disappearing from sight as he ascends into the Arena. The Tower dwindling into the distance as the hovercraft drag him away, leaving everyone behind, and Alex disappearing from sight as the hovercraft drag them away, alone again, alone -

Ted slipping from his grasp as he’s dragged away from the stage, and Charlie’s name is called, and he realizes he’s never going to see him again -

Ted flying through the air towards him -

And their hands link.

He’s pulled downwards by gravity, but Charlie’s not going to let go, he won’t, he can’t, he can’t let him slip away again, he _can’t -_

And he pulls him up with strength he didn’t know he had, and even when they’re both in the hovercraft and Charlie can finally breathe again, he can’t bear to let go, because he’s here, he’s finally _here._

Charlie pulls Ted into a hug, holding on as tight as he can, and Ted hugs him back.

The Tower burns behind them as they fly, but it doesn’t matter. Because Charlie’s finally home.

March 20th, 76

One day Charlie walks into a darkened room in 13, and almost doesn't notice it's occupied. It's Noah, sitting on the couch and watching the screen in front of him with a sort of worn intensity. He almost turns and leaves him alone until

he hears the voice that's coming from the broadcast.

Some instinct is telling him to run, but he's frozen in place, arms clutching the back of the couch. Noah must know he's there by now, but doesn't acknowledge him. They just keep watching.

Some chatter sounds from the other side of the door, but it ceases when the two newcomers realize what's going on in that room. Wordlessly, Cooper and Travis sit on either side of Noah, eyes not moving from the screen.

Ted comes in next, almost scarily quiet. He stands by Charlie, fingertips brushing against his in a quiet show of solidarity. The two loudest people from floor 6, and still nobody says a word.

He barely registers when Mason and Dash enter the room, Connor shortly after them.

Schlatt is the last. He simply stands by the doorway. But he's there.

And Alex's voice sounds from the screen.

The words are meaningless propaganda, and none of them are listening, because the only thing they need to hear is his voice. Any assurance that he's still alive, that he's still out there, that he isn't entirely out of reach just yet.

The first time floor 6 has been together since the reaping of 75.

And Alex is missing.

Nine people stand in this room. And Charlie knows, he knows, that absolutely every single one of them will stop at nothing to get back the tenth.

They’ll win. They’ll bring him back. They’ll be a whole again, whatever it takes.

This isn’t the end. They won’t let it be.

But they’ll get their happy ending.

And they’ll do it together.

**Author's Note:**

> To Anon, to Saph, to Ghet, to Khio, to Bee, to Mis, to Kenny, to Fizz, to everyone else who has ever contributed to this universe whether in writing or simply by your thoughts and support, and most of all to Hank: thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for letting me be part of something so great, and for making my 2020 so much less shitty than it could have been. I love you guys so much, more than I ever thought I could, and I will forever be grateful to you for everything.
> 
> This doesn't have to be the end. I'll always be here.


End file.
